


Sunday Morning Football

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Danny hates tropical fruit, Danny yells at the TV, Fluff, Football, M/M, Post-Case, Steve makes eggs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets all the football games. Danny yells at the TV. Steve makes eggs. Just your typical Sunday morning at the McGarrett house....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning Football

**Author's Note:**

> I had a hard time trying to decide what to post as my second fic. This one’s maybe too much like the first one I posted, but it’s in the same vague theme of the boys on Steve's sofa, being themselves and being cute, so I decided I’d go with it. Not quite ready to post my angstier stuff just yet....

By the time they were done with the op it was early Sunday morning. Very early. They headed back to Steve’s place because it was closest. Danny didn’t even pretend to protest, which made Steve kind of suspicious, but pleased.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he promised, as they pulled up to the house.

“Can I have it with beer?” Danny asked.

Steve laughed, but when they walked thru the door, Danny headed straight for the fridge and pulled out a Longboard.

“I’m gonna just rinse off,” Steve started, pointing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah, sure,” Danny replied. “I’ll just be right here.” He collapsed onto the sofa, remote in hand.

Steve shook his head in amusement and headed for the shower. When he came back down, Danny was settled in front of the TV, half his beer gone, and some football program on. Somehow—Steve had no idea how—Steve’s TV got the highest level football package.

“Whatcha got there?” He asked, shaking his wet hair over Danny.

“Hey, don’t dilute my beer,” Danny groused. “Jets pregame.”

“Well, that’s nice. I’ll just go cook, shall I?” Steve attempted a long suffering tone, but he was afraid it just came out as affectionate.

Danny didn’t notice, just waved his hand about in a “yeah, go ahead” manner.

By the time Steve came back with plates of scrambled eggs and toast (and more beer), the sun was up and the game had started.

“Thanks, babe,” Danny replied absentmindedly when Steve handed him his plate. “What the hell kind of play is that?” He yelled at the TV.

Steve started to say something about a lack of protection but decided he wasn’t quite energetic enough to engage Danny over Jets play calls, so he settled in to eat his eggs.

Danny grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite only to spit it back out. “What the—are you trying to kill me?” He sputtered.

“It’s only guava jelly, Danno,” Steve smiled innocently.

“Just guava—what the hell is wrong with grape, Steven? Huh? Normal people put grape jelly on toast, ok?” He broke off, mumbling, “Guava jelly….” But the Jets made another spectacularly bad play, and he took up criticizing their offense over Steve’s choice of jelly.

Steve, in response, handed Danny his own toast, which had what looked suspiciously like grape jelly on it.

“You jackass.” Danny smiled and took the toast. Steve reached over and took Danny’s toast and ate it happily.

Half way thru his eggs, Steve started to yawn, and by the time he’d finished them, he was decidedly drowsy. He put his plate down on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa. “Defense’s not half bad,” he noted.

“Thank you for saying that,” Danny snapped. “Now they’ll suck.”

“Danno, you have no faith.” Steve snuggled further into the sofa, practically cuddling up against Danny.

“Faith?” Danny exclaimed. “I have faith. Faith in the Jets’ ability to suck.” But sensitive to Steve’s growing tiredness, he set his plate aside as well, grabbed the remote, and settled back into the sofa, turning the volume down.

“Season’s still early,” Steve mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

Danny looked fondly at his sleeping partner, brushing the hair back from his temple. “Yeah, it is, babe. It is.” And if he watched the rest of the game with a smile, it wasn’t because the Jets played well.

 

 


End file.
